


i know who those flowers are for

by mafuyuukis (aslanjades)



Category: Given (Anime), Given (Manga)
Genre: An Excerpt From A Fic I’ll Never Write, Except It’s More Like One Scene, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Oneshot, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-10 04:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21473497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aslanjades/pseuds/mafuyuukis
Summary: Haruki is in love.He didn’t know it would hurt this much.
Relationships: Kaji Akihiko/Nakayama Haruki
Comments: 9
Kudos: 154





	i know who those flowers are for

AS HE KNELT on the tiled floor of his bathroom and watched as sunflower petals swirled around pink-tinted water, Haruki felt like the sorriest man in Tokyo.

His throat was raw. Each of his coughs came out as wheezes then—faint echoes of what they were moments ago when each spawned a petal if not half of a blossom. Burned out and hoping the end of the coughing fit had arrived, he took the back of his hand to his mouth and wiped. Upon looking down, he noticed a streak of red contrasting tan skin.

Coughing up blood and sunflower petals. A contradiction that would have been somewhat humorous if he wasn’t in such excruciating pain.

Relieved, albeit only slightly, he sat back and leaned his head against the wall, the edges of his eyes pricking with tears. His hand stayed atop his mouth as a precautionary measure, there in case he needed to muffle the sounds again to prevent the sleeping man a few rooms over from stirring.

If he had any sense, he would have refused Akihiko’s request to stay over without a second thought, for this routine of dying transparent water pink and spitting flowers was the same every night, and if Akihiko saw and worried—he had no right to, but he would anyway—Haruki wouldn’t have an explanation. He had never been able to conjure a comprehensive list of reasons why he loved him, needed him, wanted him. 

But the second Akihiko asked, before he could get the sentence out, even, Haruki said yes. And when he asked if he was sure, giving him a chance to go back on his words, Haruki said yes _again_, and even more insistently. Like he wouldn’t even be intruding by temporarily taking up residence in Haruki’s space. Like a goddamn fool. 

Haruki wished he wouldn’t have been lying if he said it was because he knew Akihiko had nowhere else to go. Maybe he did know that at the back of his mind, but more than anything, it could be attributed to the fact that whenever Akihiko opened that pretty mouth of his, Haruki couldn’t think straight. Like every wire went dead and left his heart to respond, a worst case scenario since it beat only for him and would compel Haruki to say whatever could make Akihiko’s heart do the same.

When Akihiko accompanied him home and spread out on his sofa, Haruki waited. He made up a shit excuse to stay nearby, one he couldn’t even remember, but he was watching. Moments like those were all the intimacy he could get, so he took it; he watched Akihiko’s chest rise and fall, stared at the curvature of his jaw as he tilted his head back against the armrest, and fawned at the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed. It was quite scandalous, really, but Haruki couldn’t take his eyes off him.

He had never been able to. And from the bottom of his heart, he wished Akihiko could say the same.

If he were to be honest, he missed thinking that the core-shaking coughs were due to the tar in his lungs. The knowledge that the one person he longed for could be wound up with somebody else at any time, exchanging kisses and letting hands roam to unspeakable places, haunted him—if he wasn’t sure his lungs were failing him, he would have thought the ache came from a broken heart.

Pulling his hand away from his mouth, Haruki stood. He swayed a bit when he got to his feet, the exhaustion from not having slept through the night for days getting to him at last, but he was stable enough to flush the toilet, pull the seat down, and turn on the faucet. He washed his hands, then washed out his mouth. For good measure, he washed his face too, as if that would get rid of the dark circles beginning to take form beneath his eyes.

It didn’t.

He didn’t expect Akihiko to be awake, for one. He especially didn’t expect him to be standing there when he opened the door, presumably in wait. 

It’s that he blamed for the loud, profane “shit!” that left his lips.

“Are you okay?” Akihiko asked. He hardly even looked groggy as he did, leaving Haruki to wonder just how long he had been awake. Just how long he had been standing there.

Nonetheless, Haruki threw on his typical veneer; he smiled, putting every ounce of warmth and delicacy he could muster into it. “Me? I’m fine.”

And rather than nodding and moving along or shifting past him to get into the bathroom, Akihiko stared. His was a rather gripping one, for those green eyes were perhaps the most intense Haruki had ever seen, with so much wound up within them that pinpointing one emotion was impossible. So Haruki merely stared back, standing his ground.

“I heard you coughing.”

“Not feeling good, that’s all. You know my tolerance for alcohol fluctuates.”

Akihiko raised a brow. “You hardly drank.”

“Must have been something that I ate.” Before Akihiko could mention that he hadn’t eaten—he only smoked a cigarette or two—Haruki forced a laugh. “Besides, you’re the guest. If anything, I should be asking you if _you’re_ okay.”

“That doesn’t matter. If you need anything, I’m there, regardless of where we are. That’s the least I can do.”

For a moment, as Akihiko pried so forcefully yet somehow so softly, Haruki hated him. He loved him, yes, but still, he hated how analytical he was. Hated how much he cared, because he was making everything so much harder. And more than anything, he hated that if even if he did confess his feelings, even if he laid it all out on the line, nothing would come of it. 

“Don’t worry about me,” Haruki smiled, walking out through the space between the bedframe and Akihiko’s body. Akihiko could have stopped him, but he didn’t. As he felt that burning gaze on his back, Haruki let out a relieved breath.

But after taking only a couple of steps, he stopped, far foot moving up to join the one that had braced for another step. Putting his hand to his mouth again, he closed his eyes. _Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. _

_Not there. Not then._

He coughed, catching something in his hand as he did. Before he could continue forward, maybe escape a conversation about it, Akihiko grabbed his wrist, and those small yellow somethings fell from his palm.

Haruki turned to look at him, eyes wide, but Akihiko was staring at the blood-stained petals on the floor.


End file.
